Everyone in life goes through a large trial. Overcoming it yourself can be very difficult, but watching someone else go through it sometimes is just as hard. My parents divorced when i was about 6 months old. I had always lived with my mom, but my dad has always stuck around for me and my sisters, and he still is today.
About six years ago when i was eight years old my oldest sister had given me the news that our father had gotten into a car accident. It was during the summer of 2009 and i had an event to go to that day, i really hadn't wrapped my head around what had really happened. I could remember people asking me about it there and wondered how they had even been able to find out so quickly. The memory of seeing my oldest sister at work crying so much is something i remember the most. That same day she left work early to go and see my dad.
I had to wait until the weekend so i could see him myself at the Ventura County Medical Center. He was put into the Intensive care unit, usually the hospital won't let children under 13 into the wing, so i lied about my age. They had told me that a man had been distracted driving while my dad was talking to two other men who were working in the fields right behind where they stood talking. The man who was driving a large truck wasn't paying attention to the road and swerved off the road and went speeding off right into the fields where my father and the two other men were standing. He hit my dad first, then the two other men. Luckily, nobody died, the two other men were fine enough to leave the hospital after two days. But to no avail, my father wasn't as lucky.
The impact of the hit was enough to throw my father into the fields and almost take his left leg off. Two of the three main arteries that transport blood into your leg were cut off, leaving only one weak one left to do the job. The day I went to see him I still really hadn't wrapped my head around what actually went down. The innocence of my eight year old mind blanketing me with delusion. About a week after the accident, my father had gotten his first surgery. After the first came about four more. For a while, there was a hope my father would be able to keep his leg, slowly he could feel certain touches on his toes. But while the playful heat of summer slowly faded into the coolness of fall, and after weekly hospital visits, the doctors declared they couldn't save my dad's leg. It was decided he would be transferred to the hospital at UCLA.
Throughout this process, my family all the way from Mexico came up to Ventura and Los Angeles to visit. With this incident, a bond was formed through us all. Of course, school had started for me, and since my father was all the way in Los Angeles, i wasn't able to visit him a much as i wish i could've, but i was given updates. The very day after my dad had gotten surgery, my aunt and her husband took me and my oldest sister to see him. I walked into the large hospital and into the room where my dad was, he was sleeping when we first got there so i talked to my family that was there at the time. I was sitting in the chair next to where the bed when my father woke up. For the first time throughout the whole process, I had a realization of what the situation actually was. For the first time the nine year old me had realized that I could've lost my father as a result to someone else's decision to not watch the road. I held my dad's hand and cried, cried a lot as he started to cry too.
I know many things; i know pain and i know happiness. I know what it's like to watch my father go through one of the hardest times in his life, to lose a limb. But i also know what it's like to see him overcome all of that. Now, six years later, my father wakes up every morning and goes to the gym at 5 am. He still works hard every day and puts determination into everything he does in his everyday life. Its left a mark on me to see how small life is, and how it can be taken away at any moment of any day, and to sometimes sit back and be thankful for the life given to you.
About six years ago when i was eight years old my oldest sister had given me the news that our father had gotten into a car accident. It was during the summer of 2009 and i had an event to go to that day, i really hadn't wrapped my head around what had really happened. I could remember people asking me about it there and wondered how they had even been able to find out so quickly. The memory of seeing my oldest sister at work crying so much is something i remember the most. That same day she left work early to go and see my dad.
I had to wait until the weekend so i could see him myself at the Ventura County Medical Center. He was put into the Intensive care unit, usually the hospital won't let children under 13 into the wing, so i lied about my age. They had told me that a man had been distracted driving while my dad was talking to two other men who were working in the fields right behind where they stood talking. The man who was driving a large truck wasn't paying attention to the road and swerved off the road and went speeding off right into the fields where my father and the two other men were standing. He hit my dad first, then the two other men. Luckily, nobody died, the two other men were fine enough to leave the hospital after two days. But to no avail, my father wasn't as lucky.
The impact of the hit was enough to throw my father into the fields and almost take his left leg off. Two of the three main arteries that transport blood into your leg were cut off, leaving only one weak one left to do the job. The day I went to see him I still really hadn't wrapped my head around what actually went down. The innocence of my eight year old mind blanketing me with delusion. About a week after the accident, my father had gotten his first surgery. After the first came about four more. For a while, there was a hope my father would be able to keep his leg, slowly he could feel certain touches on his toes. But while the playful heat of summer slowly faded into the coolness of fall, and after weekly hospital visits, the doctors declared they couldn't save my dad's leg. It was decided he would be transferred to the hospital at UCLA.
Throughout this process, my family all the way from Mexico came up to Ventura and Los Angeles to visit. With this incident, a bond was formed through us all. Of course, school had started for me, and since my father was all the way in Los Angeles, i wasn't able to visit him a much as i wish i could've, but i was given updates. The very day after my dad had gotten surgery, my aunt and her husband took me and my oldest sister to see him. I walked into the large hospital and into the room where my dad was, he was sleeping when we first got there so i talked to my family that was there at the time. I was sitting in the chair next to where the bed when my father woke up. For the first time throughout the whole process, I had a realization of what the situation actually was. For the first time the nine year old me had realized that I could've lost my father as a result to someone else's decision to not watch the road. I held my dad's hand and cried, cried a lot as he started to cry too.
I know many things; i know pain and i know happiness. I know what it's like to watch my father go through one of the hardest times in his life, to lose a limb. But i also know what it's like to see him overcome all of that. Now, six years later, my father wakes up every morning and goes to the gym at 5 am. He still works hard every day and puts determination into everything he does in his everyday life. Its left a mark on me to see how small life is, and how it can be taken away at any moment of any day, and to sometimes sit back and be thankful for the life given to you.